Seng-gé Dradog

archival.

dear you,

i hope this letter finds you well. i am chuckling for the silly sadness of writing you, here, again. but it is not a sadness of loss or of lacking, rather, a sadness of hindsight and understanding, and the soft regret of lessons learned too late to be of service to the one who provided them.

about eight hours ago, i had written you what i thought would be this letter. in reading it again, and seeing the sharp edges of lingering ego, i felt a certain sadness that is more of my own causing than anything you ever did. seen, it is resolutely set aside. i tell you this only because your presence and choices in relation to me created the circumstances by which that insight is possible.

thank you for that.

thank you also for setting in motion the events to help me learn and understand that helping others depends largely upon being able to do so without any touch or breath of self-interest. much of my eagerness in relation to you was in this manner tainted, and i suppose it was inevitable that all things suffered for it. including the people.

i find it interesting and curious what a difference such small slices of time can make. i find it astonishing how the simple act of being open to lessons brings them so fully home. it is not always easy, and most often it is painful. but i realize that the pain is nothing more than my last efforts to avoid and ignore things. self-inflicted in every way.

thank you as well for choices made in relation to shared spaces. these actions and my own reactions to them have brought to me wonderful things and here, now, i can see the faint path and clever weavings that were required to manage it. i am surprised, which i suppose is normal for the moments in which a pattern is recognized at last. regardless you… or me… good things rise and are deeply savored in this moment, all of which would likely have been quite impossible were it not for things happening precisely as they did.

so again, thank you.

i realize in this moment something that i spent much too much time ignoring. i realize as well that all remaining angst is my own to purge and purify. but most of all, i realize the simple and genuine blessing underlying events, and i see its source.

thank you for this as well.

some months ago, at the instruction of my lama, i undertook to make deliberate and careful teachers of everyone who had ever, in any way, wounded or hurt me. Rinpoche is much wiser than i was willing to admit in that moment, even as i have often grit my teeth at him… but quietly and with a certain laughter for my own foolishness. Rinpoche knew enough to set me against myself, leave me to find that this was the way of it, and to discover the natural progression of that insight being reflected over everything.

moonlight, you know. i find a certain affinity for the moon these days. in truth, affinity for most things and the ripples of it all continue in every direction. interconnection and interdependance and the simple truth that is often so hard to look upon. i’ve been whittling upon ego, making it into shapes that bring laughter. a jackass. a stubborn mule. a tear drop, a rose, a thorn, a drop of water. i suppose that may sound like i approach madness, but in truth, i am almost spookily serene these days.

thank you for that, too.

i find comfort in being able to write without the need for events or even names. recognizing the difference between any of it mattering and all of it providing meaning. mirror, mirror, deep inside, i see me best when i try to hide.

and again, thank you.

love, light, and liberation,
me

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